


worth dying for.

by earlharlans



Category: TAZ: Amnesty, the adventure zone
Genre: Angst, Death, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Crying, M/M, Somebody dies, Swearing, Unrequited Love, future sight, indrid is not doing very good, neither is duck, self hatred, the feelings aren't acted upon, venting, well kind of, written before episode 28 big f, written while listening to "i love you" by billie ellish at 1 am so that's the vibe ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 22:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20320903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlharlans/pseuds/earlharlans
Summary: Indrid gets a vision that Duck is going to die. He realizes something.





	worth dying for.

**Author's Note:**

> in case you didn't read the tags this is before episode 28 came out, but still has some spoilers from before so uh you've been warned

Duck Newton was going to die. 

The vision came to Indrid in a similar fashion in which one gets hit by a train. He was lying across his couch, or whatever was left of his couch after it had been buried in clothes and drawings. He was in the middle of a sip of eggnog when it happened. When it did, he came to a sudden pause. A bit of his drink dripped down his chin. He shot to sitting up straight. Slowly, with a hand that was now beginning to shake, he placed the mug on the floor.

The image was something straight out of a movie. The abomination--a shadow of some sort, not seeming to take any concrete form--seemed to had set his sights on Duck. Beacon had been dropped somewhere on the other side of the room. There was no way Duck could get to it in time. He stared at the abomination. Indrid could swear there was a tear going down the man’s cheek. Then, Duck stood up straight, his hands curled up into fists. He said something Indrid could not hear. He died. Blood painted the walls like a child playing with their spaghetti, and with how mangled his corpse was left, he might as well have been spaghetti. There was screaming in the background, but it was all muffled. 

Indrid drew all of this as it came to him, scrawling across his sketchpad with desperation. The tip of his pencil broke off just as he drew Duck’s damaged face. Indrid froze. He noticed how ragged his breathing was. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He could have gotten sick all across the paper. Images of Duck’s face as he was killed plagued Indrid’s every thought. He set his sketchpad and paper down. Took a sip of his nog. 

Duck had an 85% chance of dying, or at least, Indrid estimated as much as he looked through his visions. There were some futures in which case Duck was only badly wounded, and was taken to the hospital. He would either die in the ambulance or just as they took him into a room. The chances of the doctors saving his life were slim. There was one scenario in which the abomination missed, which may have been comical if not for the dire situation. There was also the possibility of Duck not losing his sword, but even that was only a what-if, not a secure future. 

Indrid shook his head. He rose to his feet. For a moment, he paced the small space in his Winnebago. He found himself with his hands on his landline. Just as his hands began to lift the phone, and his fingers grazed the blocked numbers, he stopped himself. Of course, he could try to warn Duck of his demise. It was hard to tell if that would make his chances of surviving better or worse. Still, Indrid had learned not to interfere with fate, unless he knew his chances of actually helping were secure. That’s why he had helped the Pine Guard--he knew they could handle it then. He knew their chances of saving people were greatly increased because that had all happened in such a short time. It was easy to predict. Even then, with the luxury of reassurance, Indrid had been kidnapped for his actions.

He grimaced at the thought. He had been too weak to protect himself, and if Duck had not punched his glasses off, the situation would have been much, much worse. That was when it hit Indrid: Duck Newton saved his life. 

Maybe then, he thought, it would be worth it to take the calculated risk. If Duck had saved his life, the least Indrid could do was try to return the favor. Then he remembered one of the last times he tried to interfere with destiny. After the bridge, when he thought he might be willing to try again. The last time he tried to save a life. 

_ It was early December, and it was the first snow of the season. There was a cheerful vibe filling the streets that Sunday night. Decorations had already been put up along the fronts of businesses. A man, stumbling from his tipsiness, opened the door to his car. There was a smile still on his face as he pulled his keys out of his pockets. _

_ Indrid watched, hugging his cardigan against his torso. His scarf blew in the slight breeze. He leaned against a street light as he watched the man. There was hesitation in his gut, and perhaps that hesitation was for the better. Still, Indrid had been a more hopeful soul at the time. He knew he could stop what would happen.  _

_ “You’re going to die tonight,” he called. _

_ The man looked at him, his drunk smile not faltering. “Oh, yeah?” he asked. He chuckled. “I get it, drunk driving is bad, blah blah blah. I don’t need this lecture.” _

_ Indrid shook his head. “You’re going to be driving up a hill, on the road next to the lake, right where there’s a big boulder to the left of the road. A deer will jump out in front of you. You’ll swerve to avoid it, only to drive through the railing and into the lake. By the time people find you, you’ll be long dead.” _

_ That was enough to make the man stop smiling. “Hey, what the hell man? Is this some kind of prank?” _

_ “I’m afraid not. If you want to live, then I do think you should slow down when you get to the boulder. Make sure to pay close attention to the road.” _

_ The man eyed Indrid for a brief moment. “I guess I’ll take your advice,” he said. “Uh, thank you.” _

_ Indrid smiled, the most genuine smile he could muster at least. He knew his smiles were always uncanny and creepy; he didn’t want to hear it again.  _

_ Just before the man got into the car, he glanced at Indrid again. “Strange fuckin’ guy,” he muttered, before closing the door and driving away. _

_ One person did not die that night. Three people died that night. There were two things Indrid had missed in his vision: the ice on the roads and the car behind the man. In it was a father and his daughter, only nine, sitting in the front seat because she wanted to feel mature. The drunk man knew the dear was coming, and he tried to slow down, but he was only a second too late. The car slid, and the deer burst through his windshield, crushing him. There was no time for the father to react. He slid and crashed into the back of the man’s truck, hard. Both him and his daughter did not survive.  _

_ Indrid read about it in the newspapers the next day, though he had already seen it coming right before it happened. After that was the first night in a long time Indrid decided to get drunk.  _

He stepped away from the telephone. No, he couldn’t interfere this time. He could not risk the lives of more people. Not again. 

He checked the clock on the wall. It was almost 8:00 P.M.. Duck was supposed to die later that night. Perhaps the best thing Indrid could do for now was go to sleep. He could sleep through it, and then worry about it all in the morning. Of course, the other Pine Guard members might ask him why he hadn’t done anything if he knew it was going to happen. He could wait until he woke up to come up with an answer. 

There was no clock next to Indrid’s bed, so he didn’t know how long he lied wide awake. The sheets that used to be so soft and comforting were now suffocating him. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Duck’s dead body. He could imagine, in maybe too vivid of detail, the Pine Guard watching the death. Tears streaming down Aubrey’s face. The sheer denial Indrid knew Ned was going to go through. Indrid did not know what time it was going to happen. Maybe it already had. He didn’t want to think about it.

He decided to pour himself some more eggnog. 

Dirty mugs littered the Winnebago. Some were hidden under nooks and crannies, while most just sat upon food-stained plates and old drawings. When he opened his cupboard, he was not surprised to find it mostly bare. There was, however, one mug sitting upon the shelf. Indrid took it down and examined it. It was bright red, with a detailed drawing of a teddy bear on it. The bear was holding a big, pink, cartoon heart, with more hearts surrounding it. On the front of the mug was a sticky note, which had somehow managed to stay on for that long. It read:

**Indrid,**

**Since you can never have enough nog mugs, I suppose. Please make sure to clean this one every now and then. It was $13.**

**-Duck**

Duck had gotten him a gift. Dammit, how could Indrid had forgotten? It was possible that after receiving it, he had put it into his cupboard like it was a precious trophy, not wanting to use it in fear of tainting it. Still, looking at it hit Indrid with a wave of emotion. He could remember when Duck gave it to him. It was not too long ago, but long enough for the memory of the mug to leave Indrid’s mind completely. If anything, he remembered the event itself more than the actual gift. 

_ Indrid had had better days. Whenever he tried to get something done, his thoughts would wander down a long, dark, and twisting path. Sometimes, he would have to stop himself in the middle of tasks, only to realize how his breathing sometimes stopped. He sketched a lot, not necessarily visions, rather they were unconscious attempts to portray what he was feeling on paper. Many of them were dark spirits and shadows, or faces with no eyes or mouth. Many of them were crumpled and thrown onto the floor.  _

_ That was when Duck came over. Indrid had known Duck was coming, and he knew Duck was going to give him a gift, but he still wasn’t ready for it. He would rather not see anyone, not in this disastrous state he was in. Still, he could never bring himself to say no to Duck. _

_ “You know, you should really clean up a bit sometime,” Duck said as he closed the door behind him.  _

_ “So I’ve heard.” Indrid threw clothes off of his couch into a pile in the corner as he spoke. “But, still, I always seem to find more important matters to concern myself with I suppose. Perhaps one day I’ll get around to it.”  _

_ He was talking way too fast, and saying way too much. If only he could sew his mouth shut, so no one would have to hear him speak again. He found both his hands and his voice had begun to shake, and prayed Duck wouldn’t notice.  _

_ “Have a seat,” he said, motioning to a now clear spot on the couch. _

_ Duck obliged. “So, uh, here it is I guess,” he said. That was when he pulled the mug out of his jacket.  _

_ Indrid paused in his reckless throwing of clothes to look at Duck. “Oh,” he said. _

_ “Yeah, sorry I didn’t wrap it or anything,” he said. “Figured you would already know about it.” _

_ “No, it’s lovely.” Indrid took the mug with a careful hand, and slowly sat down on the couch next to Duck. “Thank you, Duck.” _

_ “It’s nothing. Consider it thanks for helping the Pine Guard out so much.” _

_ Indrid only nodded. There was a moment of silence. It crept up Indrid’s skin, and clawed at his insides. Breathing was becoming more and more of an impossible task. _

_ “Duck?” he said. It was easy to tell now that his voice was trembling.  _

_ Duck perked up. “Yeah?” _

_ “When you know that people are in danger,” Indrid said, “have you ever considered not doing anything?” _

_ Duck laughed. “Shit, Indrid, I didn’t do anything for the past twenty fuckin’ years. It wasn’t until I started running into monsters ‘n’ shit that I actually started to take action.” _

_ The grin on Duck’s face fell off once he saw the worry on Indrid’s.  _

_ “I find it quite odd,” Indrid said, “that I either do nothing at all, or I make it all worse.” _

_ “Now, ‘Drid, I’m sure that’s not true--” _

_ “I am not a good person, Duck.” Indrid’s voice cracked, threatening to cave in and break into sobs. “People have died because of me.” _

_ Duck pursed his lips. He inched closer to Indrid, who was hugging himself tightly.  _

_ “Hey, uh, I haven’t known you for long, but I can assure you you’re not a bad person,” Duck said.  _

_“How do you know that?” Indrid refused to look at Duck. He was thankful for his glasses, because Duck didn’t have to know where his gaze was. __  
_ _“I just know it, Indrid. I can’t explain it. If anything, you’re one of the few people I’m okay with right now, considering how shitty everything else in my life is.”_

_ Heat rose to Indrid’s neck and ears. He smiled a bit, but suppressed it.  _

_ “Tell me about work,” Indrid said.  _

_ At first, Duck seemed puzzled, but he caught onto Indrid’s oncoming anxiety not long after. Duck talked about stupid shit he caught teenagers doing, the types of plants and animals he saw, some of his coworkers. Indrid was only partially paying attention to the words, rather he was mainly focusing on Duck’s voice. He had never realized how soothing it was until that moment.  _

_ After Duck left, Indrid still thought about that for a while.  _

Tears dripped down into the mug. Indrid slid down the cabinets and onto the floor, his knees drawn into his chest. He held the mug close to him like a stuffed animal. He cried; he cried and cried and he couldn’t stop. Every time he stopped himself to try to breathe and collect himself, something about Duck would pop into his mind. His cat, his weird niche interests, his laugh. Then Indrid was crying again. 

There was a pain, deep in Indrid’s chest. It was as if he had been stabbed, but there was no blood or open wound. He clenched at his chest as he heaved shaky, wet breaths, and sniffled like a child. Never before had he felt so small, so hopeless. 

“Why am I crying so much?” he said to himself, trying to wipe the ever flowing tears off his face. “I’ve seen people die before, this--”

Then, it hit him. It was love.

Indrid was in love with Duck. 

No, the feeling in his chest was not love, it was heartbreak. It was his heart shattering over and over again. Duck was the closest thing Indrid had ever had to a best friend, and now, Indrid realized that Duck was the first person he had loved in a long time. Now, Duck was gone. The Pine Guard was likely to leave with him. Indrid was going to be alone again. It was strange. Before, he had been close friends with loneliness. It had wrapped its cold arms around him, and he had become comforted by it. Now, the thought made him sick to his stomach. 

Indrid sat and cried until he ran out of tears. His face was wet, and his eyes were swollen. He was about to lose the most important thing to him--the most important person to him, and it hurt. Goddamn, did it hurt worse than anything else. 

At least his crying helped him to fall asleep. 

Indrid awoke the next morning to a knock on the door. 

Birds were singing gentle songs outside his window. The sky was just barely beginning to turn light blue, and rays of sun were starting to graze the horizon. He estimated it was somewhere around five in the morning. He forced himself to sit up straight, stretching and hearing his bones crack. When he caught his reflection in the window, he noticed he much of a mess he was. His hair was a bird’s nest, and while he looked better than he had last night, his dark circles were prominent even through the tinted glasses. 

The person knocked again, louder this time.

“Coming,” Indrid called.

He swung his feet over the side of the bed. The floor beneath him was cold as he stood up. He remembered what he saw, and what had happened, and the emotions he realized far too late. A member of the Pine Guard must have come to tell him about Duck’s death. He would probably cry again, but he wouldn’t let them see it.

The door handle was even colder. One of his heaters must have broken in the middle of the night. He took a deep breath. 

“I know what--”

He opened the door to see Duck Newton. 

Duck’s outfit was torn and caked with blood and dirt. Scratches and bruises covered his skin, most notably a scratch reaching all the way across his cheek to his ear. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. When he saw Indrid, his face lit up, or at least the most it could considering how miserable he looked. 

Indrid’s heart dropped into his stomach. He wanted to scream. He nearly wanted to break down into tears. He wanted to wrap Duck tightly in his arms and never, ever let go. He wanted to tell Duck everything that had been racing through his head all night, and how the thought of him dying made him cry until he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Duck,” was all Indrid was able to say, his voice cracking. 

“Hey, Indrid,” Duck said. His voice was gruff, and the weakest Indrid had ever heard it be. “You uh, you mind if I come in?”

“Not at all.”

Indrid stepped aside to let Duck inside. Right away, Indrid went to get all of the small space heaters working again. He couldn’t force Duck to sit in the cold; no, not after whatever Duck had just been through. As he did this, Duck plopped down onto the couch. His expression was blank, though his eyes glistened as if there were tears in them. He didn’t say a word.

Indrid stared for a brief moment as he was hit with a blast of heat. He rose to his feet. “Would you like something to drink, Duck?” he asked. He grabbed the mug that Duck gifted him off of the counter without realizing it. 

Duck must have noticed, because he gave a watery chuckle. “Nah, I’m good. Glad to see you using that mug, though.”

Indrid forced a sad smile and nodded. He set the mug down, and went to grab some eggnog from the fridge. Something terrible had happened, only not to Duck. What, then? If Duck was not dead, what had happened for him to stay alive? Indrid’s stomach was tied into knots. For now, he would have a small celebratory drink for Duck’s well-being.

“I’m glad to see you, Duck,” he said. “Really, I--I’ve never been this glad to see you in my life. How are you doing?”

Duck didn’t answer. “You said you know,” he said. “As in, you know what happened?”

“I thought I did,” Indrid said. 

“Elaborate on that.”

Indrid’s expression went grim as he poured the last drop. He held the mug with both hands. 

“I had a vision,” he said, leaning against the counter. “Well, I had multiple. In almost all of them, you died last night.”

“Really?”

Indrid nodded. The images were still crystal clear in his eyes. He forced back the tears that were beginning to well up. “I’m surprised to see you here, if I’m being quite honest.”

Duck stared at the floor. “So what was the likelihood that it wouldn’t be me who died?”

“Quite slim.” Indrid took a long drink, though his appetite was gone and it made him feel sick.

“Just got that unlucky then, huh?” Duck’s hand curled into fists. 

Indrid’s head tilted in curiosity. “I’m not sure I know what you mean. You’re alive, aren’t you? I would assume that that’s a good thing.”

Duck looked up at Indrid. A stray tear had fallen down his face. Indrid’s eyes went wide for a moment.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

That was most definitely the wrong thing to say in every future, and Indrid should have known it.

“The abomination was lookin’ straight at me,” Duck said. “I thought I was a goner. I had dropped Beacon. I had nothing to defend myself with. Hell, I was ready to beef it right then ‘n’ there. Aubrey, however, she--” 

Duck stopped mid sentence. He buried his face into his hand, and let out a sob. He took a deep breath, and wiped away another stray tear before looking back up. Indrid watched helplessly. Yes, he knew now. He could see it all play out, in detail, in his head.

“She died before she even got to the hospital,” they both said at the same time. 

Huh.

In all of Indrid’s visions, this had never happened. Of course, the Pine Guard had always been one to play with fate, but he still had never seen it coming. It was odd. Of course, Aubrey had been Indrid’s friend, and finding out about her death made his heart pang with grief. However, at the same time, he was thankful Duck had been the one who lived. Indrid knew that it was selfish. He shouldn’t have thought it at all. Still, there was something so bittersweet about knowing that the person he seemed to care about the most was safe, only at the cost of someone else’s life. 

“I’m so terribly sorry,” Indrid said. 

Duck shook his head. “Fuck, man,” he said. “Why the fuck did she have to do that?”

Duck’s voice was beginning to waver with tears. Indrid sat on the couch next to him, panicking at the thought of having to see Duck cry. 

“I think what Aubrey did was valiant, and incredibly brave,” Indrid said, speaking slowly as he tried to pick each of his words with care. “And I think that she did what she did for a reason, and that now it’s your job to make her sacrifice worth it. Does that make sense at all?”

“Shit, man, you don’t get it,” Duck said. “She was probably the strongest person on our team. Hell, I mean, she can--could use fuckin’ magic. I don’t have shit to bring to the table now that I don’t have Minerva with me. Now I gotta go back to Amnesty Lodge, and we’re gonna have to tell everyone when they wake up, and we’re gonna have to tell Dani, and--”

That was it. Duck, so weak and fragile now, had broken. He wrapped his arms around Indrid and broke into tears. Indrid was surprised at first, but he hugged Duck back, rubbing circles on the other man’s back. 

“Why couldn’t it have been me?” Duck sobbed into Indrid’s shoulder, staining his gray cardigan. “She was young. She had a whole damn life ahead of her. I’m not worth that. I’m not worth fuckin’ dying for.”

Indrid frowned. It was a strange thing to think about. Duck had never shown signs of such low self-worth, or maybe they had always been there and Indrid never paid close enough attention. It made Indrid think,  _ was  _ Duck worth dying for? Would Indrid die for Duck?

The answer was maybe, and that was terrifying. 

“It’s okay, Duck,” he said. “You’re going to be okay.” The words were harder to say knowing that Duck would not believe them. 

“I shouldn’t have gotten into his whole monster fightin’ shit,” Duck mumbled. “Maybe she would still be fuckin’ alive if I had just stayed put as a dumbass forest ranger. Then she wouldn’t have had to try to defend me.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“You sure about that?”

“If--” Indrid’s words caught in his throat. He swallowed hard. “More people could have died if you hadn’t been there to help stop the abominations. Besides, if you hadn’t followed your destiny, then, well, we wouldn’t have met, right?”

There was a brief moment of silence. Indrid could feel Duck nod against his shoulder. “Yeah,” Duck said. “Yeah, that’s true.”

Indrid ran a loose hand through Duck’s messy hair. It was one of the first times Indrid had seen Duck without his iconic ranger hat on, and something about it made him look so much more soft. 

“I don’t know what I would do if we hadn’t met,” Indrid whispered. 

They sat like that for ages. Indrid cradled Duck as he continued to cry, occasionally gasping for air as he choked on his own saliva and Indrid having to help him remember how to breathe. For that time, Indrid attended to his every need, giving him tissues and water when he needed it and talking whenever Duck needed a distraction. There were far too many words that Indrid wanted to say, but didn’t. Maybe he never would say them. Still, during those hours of Duck crying without stop, Indrid only fell deeper into his emotions, as selfish as that may be. 

He could predict the future, but if only he could know what to say. If only he could know how Duck felt. Indrid saw a future where he kissed Duck. He knew it was not going to be fulfilled. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> wow i haven't posted in so long and my interests have drastically changed whOOPs  
anyways yeah i hope y'all are doing well and that you enjoyed this. i actually wrote this awhile back but never got around to posting it oof. expect more taz content soon though this podcast ruined my life.   
comments are always appreciated! :)


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